replaceable
The room next door must be blaring their music if I can hear it threw a foot or two of concrete. It's ridiculously loud. I'm not exactly sure how to remedy the situation, but I sure know it's making me mad. There's so much banging, yelling, and music going on that I'm not sure I'll really sleep tonight.
I just finished a cute, sappy, totally corny book about a skater girl and the divide between her life and the life of a rich heir of the local mill. It was enough to get me to sigh out loud a few times. Definitely a pick-me-up sort of book, even if it was completely transparent and silly. But really, who wants to read something that's educated all the time? Sometimes it's nice to just read a silly novel to pass a few days.
I met with Erin today and discussed some things I've never really given any thought to. For example, when did I realize I was a sexual being? Why does intimacy in public spaces disgust me? Why am I repulsed by the lack of genuine feelings when most people come together and give their little air-hugs? Where did all this begin? I don't know any of the answers to those questions right now, but I definitely want to find out. When you really think about it, how often does a person look inside for answers to these questions? They're scary things to face. Terrifying, really.
Loneliness has seemed to set in for the night. That clenching feeling in my heart, the instant onset of a major frown, all are in formation. I'd love to have a good cry, but I've been finding it difficult to cry. I mean, I cried on Monday, but barely. I just need a chance to break down, sob on the rug and just wait for it all to pass. I want to let it all out. I truly do, but nothing seems to want to come out. It's hard enough facing 19 years of anger without an impending emotional breakdown.
You know what I want? I want to fall in love. Head over heels, lose myself in the act, forget who I am and where I came from love. I want to let someone take care of me. I'm tired of having to bear all this weight on my shoulders alone. People need others, myself included. But are some doomed to just be alone? For real, is that possible? I've had such bad luck in the past and I'm convinced that's just the way it is for me. But what did I do wrong? I've cared so much, but it's been thrown back in my face. The only two guys I've ever really cared about and have "dated" have both forgotten me without a fleeting thought. I know that shouldn't matter all that much, but it hurts. To know that I'm so easily removable from the fabric of life that I once helped to weave, it's devastating. Mike rebounded in a big way, getting a new girlfriend and then giving his V-card to her. Jasen, far from pure, took me into his life even though I'm quite the conservative one. He knew he wouldn't get anything from me, but he tried to bend for me. I was flattered. But I guess I'm not worth that. I was thrown down once again.
To be fair, these relationships weren't the best things in the world. Mike was possessive, obsessive, wouldn't let me wear certain clothes or talk to certain people without flipping out. I was being controlled, dominated, and I couldn't stand for that. I'm proud of who I am and what I believe in and no matter how much I loved him, I couldn't let him hold me down anymore. I lost too many friends and was distancing myself from my family before I realized I never lost control, just lost myself. Jasen, well, we didn't exactly mesh. He was too biased in a bad bad way. He couldn't accept my beliefs and I couldn't accept his. We were both fighting each other just to have our own voices recognized. At the end, I was physically repulsed by each of them. I couldn't kiss Mike with feeling for weeks, and months before that I stopped touching him. As for Jasen, he was too forceful. He wanted so much that I was not going to let go of.
I'm pure and I like that about myself. That's the only good quality of myself that I can look at and simply accept without any protest. I can't look at my eyes, my hair, any of my features without some sort of flaw popping out at me. I'm faulty, missing a vital piece, making me utterly useless. In my eyes, what is there to love? I'm not worth the trouble. I'm not worth the pain and the sacrifice that is a part of loving someone. I don't want pity, far from it. I want to find the goodness in myself. I want to love me. I know I like who I am from time to time, but do I love me? Do I love this mangled body that I inhabit, this cookie cutter mind? I know I'm different from others, but is that enough? I'm not talented, I'm not pretty, I'm not even relatively entertaining. What is there to love?!
I really do dislike self-loathing. It's not flattering in the least. But how do I stop it? It's so hard to pick up the pieces when I don't even know which are mine to keep. So many people are just as broken as I am on the inside. Oh sure, I can put up the front. I can play the part of the studious older child, role-model to young children, good friend and perfect daughter. I play that role well. I want to be memorable, a character I've never before tried to master. What would make me memorable? Why would people want to remember me? Apparently, I'm overly sensitive, attention-seeking, mean, dramatic, offensive. Despite what these people from school have said, I don't see myself that way. I like to believe I'm a good person. I try hard to help others. I avoid inflicting pain at all costs, even if it means taken the full force of the blow by myself.
Sad songs are keeping me company right now. Acoustic songs of love and things lost. It's pathetic how big of a hopeless romantic I am. It's all about love, baby. All about love. Nothing out there like it and nothing to surpass it.
I just finished a cute, sappy, totally corny book about a skater girl and the divide between her life and the life of a rich heir of the local mill. It was enough to get me to sigh out loud a few times. Definitely a pick-me-up sort of book, even if it was completely transparent and silly. But really, who wants to read something that's educated all the time? Sometimes it's nice to just read a silly novel to pass a few days.
I met with Erin today and discussed some things I've never really given any thought to. For example, when did I realize I was a sexual being? Why does intimacy in public spaces disgust me? Why am I repulsed by the lack of genuine feelings when most people come together and give their little air-hugs? Where did all this begin? I don't know any of the answers to those questions right now, but I definitely want to find out. When you really think about it, how often does a person look inside for answers to these questions? They're scary things to face. Terrifying, really.
Loneliness has seemed to set in for the night. That clenching feeling in my heart, the instant onset of a major frown, all are in formation. I'd love to have a good cry, but I've been finding it difficult to cry. I mean, I cried on Monday, but barely. I just need a chance to break down, sob on the rug and just wait for it all to pass. I want to let it all out. I truly do, but nothing seems to want to come out. It's hard enough facing 19 years of anger without an impending emotional breakdown.
You know what I want? I want to fall in love. Head over heels, lose myself in the act, forget who I am and where I came from love. I want to let someone take care of me. I'm tired of having to bear all this weight on my shoulders alone. People need others, myself included. But are some doomed to just be alone? For real, is that possible? I've had such bad luck in the past and I'm convinced that's just the way it is for me. But what did I do wrong? I've cared so much, but it's been thrown back in my face. The only two guys I've ever really cared about and have "dated" have both forgotten me without a fleeting thought. I know that shouldn't matter all that much, but it hurts. To know that I'm so easily removable from the fabric of life that I once helped to weave, it's devastating. Mike rebounded in a big way, getting a new girlfriend and then giving his V-card to her. Jasen, far from pure, took me into his life even though I'm quite the conservative one. He knew he wouldn't get anything from me, but he tried to bend for me. I was flattered. But I guess I'm not worth that. I was thrown down once again.
To be fair, these relationships weren't the best things in the world. Mike was possessive, obsessive, wouldn't let me wear certain clothes or talk to certain people without flipping out. I was being controlled, dominated, and I couldn't stand for that. I'm proud of who I am and what I believe in and no matter how much I loved him, I couldn't let him hold me down anymore. I lost too many friends and was distancing myself from my family before I realized I never lost control, just lost myself. Jasen, well, we didn't exactly mesh. He was too biased in a bad bad way. He couldn't accept my beliefs and I couldn't accept his. We were both fighting each other just to have our own voices recognized. At the end, I was physically repulsed by each of them. I couldn't kiss Mike with feeling for weeks, and months before that I stopped touching him. As for Jasen, he was too forceful. He wanted so much that I was not going to let go of.
I'm pure and I like that about myself. That's the only good quality of myself that I can look at and simply accept without any protest. I can't look at my eyes, my hair, any of my features without some sort of flaw popping out at me. I'm faulty, missing a vital piece, making me utterly useless. In my eyes, what is there to love? I'm not worth the trouble. I'm not worth the pain and the sacrifice that is a part of loving someone. I don't want pity, far from it. I want to find the goodness in myself. I want to love me. I know I like who I am from time to time, but do I love me? Do I love this mangled body that I inhabit, this cookie cutter mind? I know I'm different from others, but is that enough? I'm not talented, I'm not pretty, I'm not even relatively entertaining. What is there to love?!
I really do dislike self-loathing. It's not flattering in the least. But how do I stop it? It's so hard to pick up the pieces when I don't even know which are mine to keep. So many people are just as broken as I am on the inside. Oh sure, I can put up the front. I can play the part of the studious older child, role-model to young children, good friend and perfect daughter. I play that role well. I want to be memorable, a character I've never before tried to master. What would make me memorable? Why would people want to remember me? Apparently, I'm overly sensitive, attention-seeking, mean, dramatic, offensive. Despite what these people from school have said, I don't see myself that way. I like to believe I'm a good person. I try hard to help others. I avoid inflicting pain at all costs, even if it means taken the full force of the blow by myself.
Sad songs are keeping me company right now. Acoustic songs of love and things lost. It's pathetic how big of a hopeless romantic I am. It's all about love, baby. All about love. Nothing out there like it and nothing to surpass it.